15 #2

“We take the inner route to the bar and turn into open water during the afternoon storm,” she said. “A small boat takes the copy to Cen separately.”

Jesa studied her.

“The storm could break the mast.”

“Velaria’s ship will have the same problem, with more height.”

“My ship pays for the risk.”

“You choose.”

Jesa voted with her seven crew members. Each laid down a stone: black for the inner route, white for Cen, red for open water. Five black, two white, one red.

“Inner route,” Jesa decided. “We change course if Venn confirms enough wind. The copy goes with Cori through the Cen channel.”

“I’ll go with her,” Isolde said.

“I need you if Velaria catches the ship.”

“I can help Cori protect the papers.”

“I need your help here if they catch us. We’ve sent other copies overland.”

Isolde looked at the crates and stayed beside the mast while they readied the boat.

Cori left with another sailor in a narrow boat. She carried two crates of bandages and the document hidden in a bottom plank.

The Stubborn One entered the shallows at noon. Her keel grazed sand. Venn guided her with a pole. Clouds were building to the west.

Velaria’s ship appeared behind the first islet.

She had two masts, gray sails, and a blue plate on her bow. Her deeper draft kept her from following them between the banks. She launched three boats with soldiers.

“Not yet,” Jesa said when Isolde took her position.

The boats advanced through different channels. They wanted to close the way to open water. One carried archers. Another held a net with blue weights.

Rheskan sensed the metal. The bond tightened.

“Stay out of it,” Isolde said.

The dragon answered with an image of the net falling onto the water. Isolde had given an order before hearing his plan.

“I said—”

The presence closed.

Kaoran looked at her.

“Listen before you give orders.”

Isolde drew breath.

“The net seeks his fire. If he comes close, they’ll follow him.”

“He knows that better than we do.”

The first arrow struck the deck.

Jesa ordered a canvas screen raised. The archers shot over it. The blue net flew from the second boat. It headed for the mast.

Isolde kept fire away from it. Kaoran cut one of the sail’s lines. The cloth fell and caught the net before it reached the wood. The blue weights sank over one side.

The plate on the enemy bow lit up. A cold pulse traveled through the water and tugged at Isolde’s core.

“A locator,” she said.

“Can it follow you?” Jesa asked.

“It follows the fire in this region. Rheskan, Ydrael, or me.”

“Then today you don’t burn.”

“Today I don’t burn.”

The third boat reached the starboard side. Soldiers threw grappling hooks. Two caught the rail. Isolde struck the first with the pommel. Kaoran threw the second over using his own line. The crew cut the other hooks loose.

The wind changed.

Venn looked at the clouds.

“Now, or we lose the way out.”

Jesa ordered the sail opened. The Stubborn One turned toward the outer channel. The larger ship changed course to intercept.

The storm struck all at once.

The sea ceased to have a surface. Wind filled the sail and hurled the ship over the waves. Kaoran tied himself on without being asked. Isolde braced the mast with two sailors.

Velaria’s boats fell behind. The large ship kept pace alongside, cutting off the route to the headland.

A projectile struck The Stubborn One below the waterline.

The blue plate embedded itself in the hull. Ice covered the wood and split it open.

Water poured into the hold.

“Pumps!” Jesa shouted.

The crew went below. Isolde followed Kaoran. Water already covered their ankles. The crack spread around the blue metal. Heating it might activate the locator. Leaving it would break the hull.

“Need,” Kaoran said.

“Remove the plate and close the wood.”

“Limit.”

“The inner edge. Three pulses.”

Isolde placed a hand on each side without touching the metal. She heated the wood enough to restore its flexibility. Kaoran slid in a pry bar. Jesa held a patch of canvas and resin.

First pulse.

The plate vibrated.

Second.

The locator answered with blue light that shone through the hull.

Third.

Isolde closed her core. Kaoran tore out the projectile. Jesa applied the patch. Water kept coming around the edges.

“Hold until the cove,” she said.

An explosion sounded on deck.

A second net, fired from the ship, had caught the mast. The sail burned with a cold white flame. A sailor, Rusk, was trapped beneath a broken yard.

Isolde went up.

The white fire absorbed heat and turned rain to ice. She could fight it with her core. The net would use that fire to grow.

“Sand and canvas!” she shouted.

The crew covered part of it. The flame passed through the cloth. Rusk was trying to free a leg. The yard had wedged between two planks.

Kaoran arrived with a pry bar. Together, they lifted the timber. Rusk came free, but his ankle was broken, and he had a deep wound in his thigh.

The mast was giving way.

Jesa pointed to the manifest cylinder. It had rolled beside the net. White fire surrounded it. The originals could be lost.

“The papers!” shouted Ilven, a sailor.

Another wave struck the deck. Rusk slid toward the rail.

Isolde could leap for the cylinder or catch the wounded man.

She threw herself at Rusk and looped his jacket strap around her left wrist. Her fingers alone would have opened.

She felt the pull in her shoulder and held his weight with her forearm while Kaoran reached his other arm.

Rusk looked at her with his mouth open, without enough breath to call for help.

They dragged him behind the helm. Isolde was still clinging to the strap when she heard the cylinder crack.

The yard fell onto the cylinder.

The wax caught blue fire.

The originals curled inside and vanished.

Jesa cut the mast free.

The sail, the net, and the documents fell into the sea. The Stubborn One lost speed. Velaria’s ship was closing.

“Without a mast, we won’t reach the cove,” Venn said.

The captain looked at the rocks. The current was carrying them toward a narrow arch. A sheltered beach lay behind it, but entering required a turn.

“Oars,” she ordered.

Everyone took a place. Rusk remained in Kaoran’s care. Isolde rowed with her right hand and secured the handle with her left strap. Her good leg pushed. The wound in her side burned.

The enemy ship readied another projectile.

A red shadow descended over her deck.

Rheskan struck the blue plate with both claws. The metal tore from the bow and fell into the water. The dragon avoided the people. Archers fired. He opened his good wing and used the wind to deflect the arrows.

The remaining net flew toward him.

Rheskan turned before it opened. He drew it over the enemy mast. The blue weights wrapped around the sails. The ship lost her course.

“He chose his ground well,” Kaoran said.

Isolde kept rowing. Rheskan had intervened according to his own strategy, keeping clear of the ship where the locator could catch him.

The Stubborn One passed through the arch.

The hull scraped rock. The patch opened, and water rushed in. The keel reached the beach before she sank completely.

The crew jumped into the water. Venn opened the stern pen, and two porters laid planks to the sand.

Bruma slipped on the way down; they held her reins until she could climb out of the water.

Jesa shouted priorities while the others unloaded: wounded, medicine, water, tools, food.

Isolde carried Rusk with Kaoran. Then she went back for two crates.

A wave tore away part of the hold.

Three crates of medicine disappeared. Another four were soaked. The original manifests had been lost. They still had copies, testimonies, and reproduced seals.

Velaria’s ship could not pass through the arch. She waited outside while the storm pressed against the reefs.

Rheskan landed on a high rock. He watched the sea.

Isolde approached as close as he allowed.

“Thank you.”

The dragon showed an image of the net falling over the enemy ship. He had calculated the turn before Isolde tried to keep him out.

“You’d planned it.”

Rheskan snorted. The gesture held a distinctly unhumble satisfaction.

“You were right.”

Kaoran pretended to take an interest in a rope.

“Don’t say anything,” Isolde warned.

“I’m admiring a knot.”

Rheskan tilted his head toward Kaoran. Then he looked at Isolde and opened the bond for an instant. He shared the location of a cave farther west. Inside were machines, workers, and a route climbing toward the Obsidian Range.

Arvek cove was close.

The dragon took flight before she could ask him to stay.

Jesa gathered the crew. Rusk had lost a great deal of blood. Kaoran stabilized his leg and said he needed a healer within a day. The nearest village lay behind the cliffs.

Ilven stared at the place where the mast had sunk.

“With the originals, we could have proved the seals.”

Rusk turned his face.

“They were beside me. I tried…”

“Tell me where it hurts,” Isolde asked, sitting beside him.

The sailor pointed to his thigh. She checked the bandage and had to tighten it; Rusk dug his fingers into her sleeve. Isolde waited until he could speak again.

“I saw you go past the cylinder.”

“You were falling.”

“Aelyn needed the evidence.”

“She still has copies. We’ll have to gather the testimonies and explain what was lost.”

Isolde looked at Ilven.

“You saw the wax burn. Write down the time when you can.”

He knelt on Rusk’s other side and put a hand on the bandage so she could rest her arm.

Jesa took a piece of wet paper from her jacket. Before the ambush, she had copied the actual weights onto the lining.

“Smuggling routes distrust a single cylinder,” she said.

Venn had drawn the seals on the tide board. Ilan had signed copies in Arkhe. Cori was still heading for Cen. The girl from Lower Sera was traveling toward Vessa.

The whole had lost legal force, but it remained alive.

“We saved some of it,” Isolde said.

“And we know where to get more,” Jesa replied, pointing toward Arvek.

A whistle came from the cliff path.